


Sweetheart, We Need Each Other

by cesare_the_somnambulist



Series: Sweetheart, We Need Each Other [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 'Nuff said, Adam is Bucky, Adam swears like a sailor, M/M, Pining, Ronnie is Peggy, Shiro fights everyone, Shiro is Captain America, Some angst, all that good stuff, if she punched me i'd thank her, slowburn, then fights everyone some more, veronica (ronnie) is a badass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 03:43:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17973812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cesare_the_somnambulist/pseuds/cesare_the_somnambulist
Summary: “C'mon, Takashi, it’s my last night!” Adam said brightly, slinging an arm around Shiro's scrawny shoulders and leading him out of the alley. He had always insisted on using Shiro's first name for some reason or other that Shiro had either forgotten or had never thought to question. However it had happened, the reverse nickname had stuck.“Where are we going?” Shiro asked, knowing that the answer didn't matter. He'd follow Adam anywhere because he knew with absolute certainty that Adam would do the same for him.“The future,” Adam told him with an eager grin.





	Sweetheart, We Need Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> A few things:
> 
> 1\. A friend and I got bored in gym class, so we came up with this VLD/Avengers AU. She made an amazing VLD/Star Wars AU called "the quiznacking saga" that you should definitely check out, her account is janigkale and she's amazing.
> 
> 2\. Some of these MCU characters don't have a VLD equivalent, so there are a few characters whose names I didn't change because I'm lazy. Also, some character relationships had to change, but not majorly.
> 
> 3\. Some of the dialogue comes directly from the MCU films. I do not own this dialogue, I was just too tired to change it.
> 
> 4\. I SUCK AT WRITING ACTION SCENES, PLEASE IGNORE HOW BAD THEY ARE AND JUST ENJOY THE SELF-INDULGENTLY FLUFFY PARTS.
> 
> 5\. CA:CW and onward basically don't happen in this AU because I love angst but not THAT much angst (I'm fucking weak, ok?).
> 
> 6\. This fic was named after this song https://youtu.be/n5B80qW4u0Q
> 
> 7\. Fuck canon. Fuck. Canon.
> 
> 8\. I have zero artistic skill, so if you decide to draw fanart of this, please let me know! I'd love to see it, cause VLD/Avengers fanart is,,,surprisingly rare???
> 
> 9\. Lastly, enjoy!

Shiro was fighting a stranger in an alley  - _again_.

It wasn't that Shiro loved to fight, or that he searched for fights purposely. It was that he couldn't stand bullies; people who thought just because they were bigger they could throw their weight around and get what they wanted. People like that always made his blood boil, every fiber of his being urging him to act. And he always did act, but it usually didn't end well for him.

Case in point: the guy he was currently fighting.

“You just don’t know when to give up, do ya, Jap?” the guy sneered, having knocked Shiro down three times only to see him scramble back to his feet each time.

“I could do this all day,” Shiro panted. He was angry today, and not just because the other man had been such a loud, disrespectful jerk in the movie theater. But he decided to concentrate on that at the moment, swinging his fist at the man only for him to catch it and send him sprawling again.

“Hey! Pick on someone your own size!” a voice came from up the alley, a voice that Shiro had heard shouting these words countless times before.

 _Adam._ Rising to his feet, he watched as his best friend made short work of the other man with a punch to the face and a kick in the pants. He felt a surge of relief and gratitude cause his heart rate to pick up almost imperceptibly.

“Sometimes I think you like getting punched,” Adam said as he walked up to him, weariness and amusement mingling in his tone of voice. There was no pity from the taller man; of course there wasn’t. Picking fights was simply what Shiro did -  he had accepted it years ago.

“I had ‘im on the ropes,” Shiro insisted. He imagined that he saw Adam’s eyes soften slightly.

“How many times is this?” Adam asked, picking Shiro’s enlistment form up from the ground and opening it to see a bold 4F on his record. _That_ was the other reason that Shiro was upset: this was the fourth time he had tried to enlist in the armed forces and failed.

‘'Wha- Since when are you from Paramus?” Adam said incredulously. Shiro winced at that - after several unsuccessful attempts, he had resorted to using false enlistment cards on which he changed a few facts about himself. But even that wasn’t enough to get him and his unbelievable list of ailments past those _damn_ health examinations.

“Did you get your orders?” Shiro asked, partly to change the subject, but mostly out of suspense. Adam had been drafted last year, which seemed like a cruel irony to Shiro.

Adam squared his shoulders with a mixture of pride and something else. “The 107th, Sergeant Adam Wadekar, shipping out to England first thing in the morning,” Adam said, clearly trying to sound upbeat for Shiro's sake. But it didn’t stop the sinking, sinking, _sinking_ feeling in Shiro’s chest.

Takashi Shirogane was no stranger to loss. His father had died in World War I before he had been born, and his mother had died of tuberculosis five years ago. But if there was one thing that Shiro was absolutely certain of, it was that he had only made it this far because of Adam.

Adam had been his friend since as long as he could remember. This was partly because they had been very young when they had met, but mostly it was due to the fact that he considered meeting Adam the beginning of his entire life. Before Adam, he had been alone in the world.

From the beginning, of course, he had had his mother, but she was always working herself to exhaustion because of him. As a Japanese immigrant woman, keeping him fed and paying for all of his medicine was twice as much of a job for her as it would have been for anyone else. Shiro had always resented himself for being too sickly to help her, no matter how much she insisted that it was fine. He should be strong enough to help her, but a strong enough gust of wind could send him spiraling down into illness, and so she insisted that he stay home as often as possible. He knew that she loved him, but he considered himself a burden to her all the same. Sometimes, when he was bedridden with scarlet fever or pneumonia, or _some_ illness or other, he would think, _This is_ _it. I'm going to die, and then maybe she won't have to suffer as much. She'll be free._ He had thought of himself as no more than an inconvenience to his mother, and so he hadn't had any reasons to hold on at those times when one of his many illnesses had had him certain that he was on death's door.

And then he had met Adam...

 _It had been a warm summer day when they had met, no different than those that had come in the past. Ten-year-old Shiro had gotten into a fight - naturally. The bullies had been harrassing a stray dog, kicking it and taunting it. Shiro had_ meant _to walk past that alley and avoid confrontation, as his mother often begged him to do._ Really _, he had. But then he had heard the animal whimper once in pain and he had turned back without a second thought._

_He had fought them fiercely but, as always, he was a good deal smaller than his opponents, not to mention outnumbered. But he had still fought as well as he could, trying his damndest to stay standing and shielding the dog for all he was worth-_

_“Hey! Leave the kid alone!” a voice had shouted. Another boy had entered the alley, his dark skin and hair standing in stark contrast to the sunburnt, fair-haired boys whose attention he had drawn away from Shiro._

_“It's five against two,” one of the bullies had sneered, “yer outnumbered.”_

_But the new boy had barely blinked before cocking his head to the side and replying, “Surprised ya managed all that math. Are you the brains of this bunch?” Enraged, they had charged him, but he was taller and clearly a more experienced fighter than they were, and had sent them running in minutes._

_Shiro had watched it all with a growing sense of embarrassment. He had braced himself for the boy's pity, waiting for the inevitable question: “Why did you try to fight them?”. It was what everyone else had said after intervening in his fights with big bullies. But the other boy had only looked at him for a moment, then smiled hesitantly. “You got guts, kid,” he had said incredulously, walking forward to offer Shiro his hand. Seeing no pity in his eyes, Shiro had taken it, and that was how he had met Adam._

_From then on, they had been Shiro and Adam, Adam and Shiro, against arrogant bullies, cruel schoolteachers, and Shiro’s various bouts of illness - against the_ world. _Since that moment, the two boys had been inseparable..._

...or at least, Shiro had thought that they had. But now here they were again thirteen years later, meeting in another alley after another one of Shiro's fights that Adam had finished, only now they were no longer inseparable. They could no longer _be_ inseparable because there was big, dark 4F on Shiro's enlistment form and Sergeant Adam Wadekar was shipping out with the 107th Infantry Regiment tomorrow.

Despite the loss that both men were undoubtedly feeling, Shiro knew that Adam would try to keep things as close to the norm as possible for his sake, and for that he was grateful. Adam knew how much joining the war effort mattered to Shiro, and he would always respect it, just as he always respected Shiro's refusal to back down from a fight, because that was the kind of person that Adam was. Even if he didn't understand something, he wouldn't try and tear it down with words, even though God knew he was capable of it; the man had a mouth to make a sailor flinch. But unless someone else was being a real jerk, Adam was generally a cheerful, outgoing person.

“C'mon, Takashi, it’s my last night!” Adam said brightly, slinging an arm around Shiro's scrawny shoulders and leading him out of the alley. He had always insisted on using Shiro's first name for some reason or other that Shiro had either forgotten or had never thought to question. However it had happened, the reverse nickname had stuck.

“Where are we going?” Shiro asked, knowing that the answer didn't matter. He'd follow Adam anywhere because he knew with absolute certainty that Adam would do the same for him.

“The future,” Adam told him with an eager grin.

 

The Holt Expo was a dazzling display of technology, full of bright lights and seemingly impossible feats of machinery…

...but Shiro felt numb to it all. Loneliness _(Adam is leaving tomorrow)_ , guilt _(I'm not doing my part in this war)_ , and irritation _(another double date?_ Really? _)_ twisted in his chest, leaving him feeling raw and vulnerable. He turned away from Sam Holt's flying car presentation, away from his disinterested date, and away from Adam, who was watching the show in wide-eyed fascination.

 _I should let him enjoy his last night,_ Shiro thought sadly. Another wave of melancholy washed over him, threatening to overwhelm him if he didn't _do something._ And so he felt himself turning in the direction of the nearest enlistment office.

As he trudged over, he kept on telling himself that it was pointless. _You'll get rejected again. You're too scrawny, too sickly, too-_

“Takashi!” A hand was grabbing his arm, turning him around just before he could walk through the doors. “Where are you going? We're taking the girls dancing!” His face was alight, dark eyes shining and carefree in spite of what would come tomorrow _-_ or perhaps _because_ of what would come tomorrow _-_ and Shiro’s heart twisted at how beautiful he was.

Shiro had been trying to deny this feeling for _years_. He had tried telling himself that the admiration he felt for Adam was strictly platonic, that the dependency on his best friend that he had developed was merely a result of growing up side-by-side with him. But now, with Adam standing tall and proud and handsome before him, about to leave him just like everyone else he had ever loved, he decided not to delude himself any longer: he was in love with Adam.

And he had no idea what he would do when he left him.

“I wanna try my luck at enlisting again,” Shiro said casually, knowing that Adam wouldn't like the idea.

“Takashi-” Adam began, with that familiar furrow between his brows.

“What else can I do, Adam?” Shiro asked, speaking above his best friend's protests. “I _won't_ just stay here and- and work in some factory ‘till the war’s over. There are men laying down their lives, I've got no right to do any less than them.”

Adam looked at him for a long time. He looked torn, but between what, Shiro didn't know. He only stared back into those dark eyes because he didn't know when he'd be able to do it again-

“Hey, Sarge! Are we going dancing?” one of their dates called out to Adam.

“Yes we are!” Adam shouted back, splaying his arms with _just_ enough sass to be considered charming. He turned back to Shiro, still looking uncertain.

“You go on ahead, I'll catch up,” Shiro said, knowing that he never would and knowing that Adam knew it too. But Adam knew to take this as a sign that Shiro wasn't going to back down and that Shiro was letting him go,  letting him enjoy his last night in Brooklyn.

“Don't do anything stupid until I get back,” Adam said finally, backing away towards the girls.

“How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you,” Shiro couldn't help replying.

Adam sighed, although he was smiling. “You're a punk,” he said softly, walking back to Shiro and enveloping him in a hug.

“Jerk,” was Shiro's prompt reply, returning the embrace. He closed his eyes, reveling in how _safe_ he felt in that moment. Then Adam was pulling away, walking back to the girls with a confidence in his stride that made all the girls swoon. Shiro never knew whether to be jealous or to swoon with them. Shaking himself from his negative thoughts, he turned  and pushed the doors open, refusing to look back.

A few minutes later, as Shiro waited in the physical examination room, he felt a sudden sense of foreboding and regret come over him. Turning over his shoulder to see the words **“IT IS ILLEGAL TO FALSIFY YOUR ENLISTMENT FORM”** blazoned on the wall, he made a snap decision: _I should get out of here before I get in serious trouble. I should find Adam and-_

But that was as far as his planning got, because the curtain covering his only exit was being drawn back. Shiro looked up, and up, and up to see a stern face looking down at him, as impassive and intimidating as the dark “MP” on his white helmet. _Military police,_ Shiro thought dazedly. _I’m fucked._ Then the man stepped aside to let another man enter the room, holding the curtain out of his way. This man was smaller and more friendly-looking, with gray hair and glasses. He gave Shiro the same quiet feeling that libraries did. _Here is knowledge,_ that feeling said in a gently encouraging way, _would you care to gain some?_

“So, you want to go overseas and kill some Nazis,” the man said casually, conversationally.

“Excuse me?” Shiro asked, bewildered.

“Doctor Abraham Erskine,” the man introduced himself, “I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve.”

“Takashi Shirogane,” Shiro replied hesitantly.

“Mr. Shirogane, I am here because your record has caught my interest,” Erskine said as he placed a file on the examination room's table. “It says here that previously, you have tried to enlist numerous times claiming to be from different cities, with this being your fifth.”

“There might be a mistake-” Shiro started to say, but Erskine cut him off.

“You didn't answer my previous question:  Do you want to kill Nazis?” He kept his voice neutral, but there was an undertone of keen interest in his question.

“Is this a test?” Shiro asked, although he didn't know what the doctor could possibly be testing him _for_ .  He was a skinny Japanese guy with asthma (to say the very least) and a record that proved that he had lied on his enlistment forms, what could they want from _him_?

The doctor paused, considering his question for what felt like ages but was most likely only a few seconds. Then he simply replied, “Yes.”

Shiro barely even had to consider his question. He had tried to join the armed forces over and over again, he knew what his motivation was. “I don't wanna kill anyone,” he replied, “I just don't like bullies. I don't care where they're from.”

“Well, there are so many big men fighting in this war already,” Erskine said, “maybe now what we need is a little guy.” With these cryptic words, the doctor opened the curtain to the exam room and walked out without glancing back, knowing that Shiro would follow. “I can give you a chance, but only a chance.”

“I'll take it,” Shiro said without hesitation.

“Good,” Erskine said, stamping his enlistment form and handing it to him. “Congratulations, soldier.”

Shiro's mind was a storm of hope and bewilderment as he stared at the bold **1A** that the doctor had given him

 

Shiro's introduction to the army was... _interesting_ , to say the least. Upon his arrival at Camp Lehigh, he and the other soldiers were greeted by a woman with the most confident walk Shiro had ever seen.

“I’m Agent Macias,” the woman said. She had short brown hair, light brown skin, and intelligent blue eyes that glittered behind a pair of spectacles. “I supervise all operations of this division.”

“What is _she_ doin’ here?” Shiro heard someone mutter. “She’s real pretty, but Mexico's a long way from here,” the man added. Agent Macias stopped directly in front of this man and, without hesitation, punched him directly in the face. His legs flew out from under him and he landed on his ass, hard.

“I’m from Cuba,” she said smoothly, continuing to pace as if nothing had happened, “and you all would do well to remember that.”

Shiro wanted to applaud this brilliant woman, but kept his hands firmly by his sides.

“Agent Macias!” a man shouted as he approached them.

“Colonel Iverson,” Agent Macias addressed him casually, as innocent as anything. Shiro _had_ to crack a small smile, which Agent Macias noticed. Shiro expected her to sharply reprimand him, but she said nothing. In fact, the corner of her mouth might have twitched ever so slightly.

Colonel Mitch Iverson was a gruff, one-eyed man who introduced himself by way of a long-winded speech about what was known as Project Rebirth. The objective of said project was to select a soldier to undergo a procedure that would turn him into the first of a whole group of super-soldiers, whose job it would be to “personally escort Hitler to the gates of Hell,” according to Iverson. In the middle of this speech, Iverson had taken one look at Shiro and paused for a moment, sparing him a glance of disgust and bewilderment. Shiro knew that he was wondering what a skinny Japanese kid could possibly be doing in this program, and honesty, at the moment, Shiro was wondering the same thing. But he resolutely kept his gaze forward, certain that someone like Erskine wouldn't have given him this opportunity for no reason… Right?

 

Training was hell for Shiro - there was no way to sugarcoat that particularly ugly fact. Gilmore Hodge, the man who Agent Macias had punched on the first day, constantly bullied him during training: pushing him down, knocking obstacles into his way, et cetera. Shiro had nearly punched Hodge himself the day he had decided to inform Shiro that “The Japs fight with Hitler, little guy - I think you enlisted in the wrong place.” But as badly as he had wanted to take Hodge down a peg or ten, he resisted - picking fights with a fellow soldier now could be dangerous in the future, so he took deep breaths and replayed the satisfying memory of Agent Macias’s punch in his mind.

The fact that his lungs and heart were as stubbornly shitty as ever wasn't helping him either - but Shiro could be stubborn too. That military policeman from back in the enlistment office could easily been there to kick him out, but he had only been there to accompany Doctor Erskine, who seemed to believe that Shiro deserved be here. And damn it, Shiro wasn't going to waste such a wild stroke of dumb luck by giving up. And so he pushed himself to do the best he could, considering every bruise and scrape and aching muscle a gift that he was lucky to receive.

One day, he and the other cadets were out on a run - at least, they were supposed to be. Shiro's asthma was forcing him to lag behind the others, panting and wheezing heavily.

“You see that flag?” Sergeant Duffy yelled, pointing to the top of the flagpole that stood by the road. “That means we're at the halfway point!”

The soldiers all groaned. Shiro had resigned himself to a slow and shameful jog back to the camp until Sergeant Duffy shouted, “Whoever gets that flag from the top of the pole gets a ride back with me and Agent Macias!”

Immediately, the others made attempts to climb the pole, but to no avail. “Nobody’s got that flag in seventeen years!” Sergeant Duffy said as he watched them struggle. Shiro, exhausted and out of breath though he was, quickly realized why that was: they were all going about it the wrong way. Once his fellow soldiers had given up, he walked up to the pole and simply pulled out its support pin. It came toppling to the ground with a noise that made everyone turn to look at him as he removed the flag from the pole.

He heard groans of realization and envy from the others, but as he handed the flag to Duffy, Agent Macias was grinning at him in a conspiratorial way.

“Not bad, kid - not bad at all,” she said to him as he settled into the back of the Jeep. Shiro had never had any siblings, but Agent Macias smiled at him the way he imagined a sister would look at her brother.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, unsure of how else to respond. He spent the rest of the ride back to camp with a feeling of contentment in his chest

The flagpole incident had given Shiro a bit more confidence in himself, but it hadn't stopped training from being horrible. They were doing exercise drills as usual (and Shiro was struggling considerably - as usual) when suddenly there was a shout. Now, at this point, Shiro was used to being shouted at by his commanding officers, but this shout was something worse than a simple order: “GRENADE!”

In a flash, the other cadets were running, scattering in all directions. Shiro was running too - _towards_ the grenade. The only thought echoing in his mind as he did so was a roaring, resolute **_no_ ** . “Get away! Get back!” he screamed, squeezing his eyes shut as he threw himself on top of the grenade, covering it with his body in an attempt to shield everyone else from the coming explosion. In the crawling seconds that followed, he thought, _I'm sorry, Adam_ , visualizing his best friend's warm smile and carefree laugh for the last time _._ And then…

Nothing happened. Shiro opened his eyes to see Agent Macias standing over him, eyes wide with shock. He heard someone say, “It was a dummy grenade!” in disbelief as he uncurled himself from around said grenade. Shiro’s panic and determination faded, replaced by relief...and confusion.

“Is this a test?” he asked, panting heavily. Agent Macias and Doctor Erskine only exchanged a glance and smiled at him, which sort of confirmed his suspicions by refusing to confirm them

Later that day, Shiro sat on his bunk, full to the brim with surprise and hope and fear and excitement; _he had been chosen for Project Rebirth_. Apparently his stunt with the grenade had gained him grudging admiration from even Iverson, who had ordered him to his cabin so that he could prepare for the procedure the next morning.

 _“So you had to throw yourself on top of a fuckin’ grenade to get their attention, huh? These people must be blind or something,”_ Shiro could practically hear Adam saying. His best friend was always reassuring him whenever Shiro was overlooked by people for being small and sickly, always accusing them of being blind. _Oh, Adam,_ he thought sadly. What he wouldn’t give to have his best friend with him right now, assuring Shiro ardently of his worth all while swearing like a sailor.

Shiro's thoughts were interrupted by Doctor Erskine entering the room.

“Can't sleep?” the doctor asked him, walking over to sit on the bed beside Shiro's. In one hand, he held a bottle, and in the other, he held two glasses.

“Just nervous, I guess,” Shiro said truthfully. That was the thing about Erskine, he thought. He was such a wise, grounded man that you _wanted_ to tell him the truth, because no matter what it was, he would _understand_ on some level, or else he would adjust his viewpoint and at least make an effort to understand. He made you feel _heard_ , and for someone like Shiro, that was a truly rare thing to find in a person.

“Me too,” Erskine admitted, and that was the other thing about Erskine: he told you his own truths in return. Shiro recalled the first time they had met, recalled Erskine's simple ‘Yes’ when Shiro had asked if his question was a test…

“I have a question,” Shiro said, knowing that Erskine would answer him truthfully. “Why me?”

“Ah, that's the only question that really matters isn't it?” Erskine said with a sad smile. “This is from Ausberg, my city,” he said, gesturing to the bottle. “So many people forget that the first country the Nazis invaded was their own. After the last war, my people felt weak, and they felt small. Then Hitler comes along, with the marching and the big show and the flags. He hears of me, my work, and he finds me. And he says, ‘You. You will make us strong.’

“Well, I am not interested, so he sends the head of HYDRA, his research division. A brilliant scientist by the name of Johann Sendak. Now, Sendak is a member of the inner circle, and he is ambitious. He and Hitler share a passion for occult power and Teutonic myth. Hitler uses his fantasies to inspire his followers. But for Sendak, it is not fantasy. For him, it is real. He has become convinced that there is a great power in the Earth, left here by the gods, waiting to be seized by a superior man. So when he hears about my formula, and what it can do, he cannot resist. Sendak must become that superior man.”

“Did it make him stronger?” Shiro asked.

“ _Ja._ But there were other...effects. The serum wasn't ready. But more important, the man. The serum amplifies everything that is inside, so good becomes great. Bad becomes worse. This is why you were chosen. Because a strong man who has known power all his life, will lose respect for that power. But a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows compassion,” Erskine said earnestly.

“Thanks...I think,” Shiro said, and Erskine smiled.

“Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing: that you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man,” Erskine told him, pointing to Shiro's heart to emphasize these last words. Shiro let his words sink in for a moment, then raised his glass.

“To the little guys,” Shiro said, tapping his glass against Erskine's before raising it to his lips to drink -

“No, no, wait! What are you doing?” Erskine said, taking the glass from his hand. “You have the procedure tomorrow. No fluids!”

“Alright, we'll drink it after,” Shiro compromised.

“Well, no, _I_ don't have the procedure tomorrow,” Erskine said, as if he were being entirely unreasonable. “‘Drink it after,’ I'll drink it now!” He poured Shiro's glass into his own and drank, and Shiro couldn't help but smile.

Agent Macias was his escort to Operation: Rebirth, which Shiro was endlessly relieved about. He couldn't imagine spending an entire drive with Iverson glaring at him and wondering why he was so skinny under his breath. But Agent Macias - well, she was certainly intimidating, but Shiro knew that she would at least be polite.

The drive was mostly spent in a somewhat awkward silence, which only seemed to grow as they neared their destination -

“I know this neighborhood,” Shiro realized, pointing out the window at the familiar landmarks. “I got beat up in that alley… and that parking lot… and behind that diner.”

“You certainly have something against running away, don't you, kid?” Agent Macias said, not in a condescending way but in an almost admiring tone.

“Start running, they'll never let you stop,” Shiro said. “You stand up, push back - can't say no forever, right?”

“I know what it's like, having every door shut in your face,” she replied. “As a Cuban immigrant woman, well…” she shrugged ruefully, and there was a hard glint in her eyes. “People aren't exactly begging me to work for them, much less share my opinions and ideas with them, you know what I mean?”

“My mother went through the same thing,” Shiro said softly. “She worked herself half to death trying to keep me alive even though I was sick half the time.” He recalled his mother's pale, pinched face, the loving but tired smiles she would always give him, the countless nights he had spent after her death thinking, _It should have been me -_

“I'll admit that I don't know you very well, Shirogane, but I do think that you're special,” Agent Macias told him, hesitantly giving him a reassuring smile. “And I know that your mother thought so, too.”

Shiro was speechless - here was this fearless, hard-working woman with whom he had barely interacted over the past few weeks, offering him words of comfort. He didn’t trust his voice to remain steady if he spoke. Then- “Shiro,” he said quietly.

“I'm sorry?”

“You can just call me Shiro - it's shorter and easier to pronounce,” he clarified.

Agent Macias’s smile widened into a grin. “Then in that case, Shiro, you'd better call me Ronnie - it's a hell of a lot shorter than ‘Veronica’.” They smiled at each other, and Shiro felt a kinship beginning to form between the two of them.

Then suddenly, the car was stopping, and he felt his nerves overwhelm him again. He was really doing this. His comforting thoughts about what Ronnie and Erskine had said and about what Adam would have said to reassure him left him for several long minutes, and for those minutes he was just Takashi Shirogane, a small, sickly kid from Brooklyn who was about to undergo some procedure he knew next to nothing about. He barely processed what was going on around him as Ronnie led him into a seemingly innocuous store called ‘Brooklyn Antiques’, into a back room, through a door disguised as a bookshelf, and down a hall into a hidden facility.

The doors opened onto the top of a stairwell, overlooking the room. Machines with an array of buttons and switches and gauges were arranged around the room, and people dressed in sterile lab coats were scattered about, checking the machines and talking to each other in low voices. As soon as he and Ronnie entered, they all turned to stare at them - at _him_. As he walked down the staircase, Shiro felt their curiosity and puzzlement like a hand on the top of his head, pressing him down and making him even smaller.

“Good morning,” Doctor Erskine walked up and greeted him, shaking his hand. As always, Shiro felt reassured by his presence, but then his attention was drawn to the machine at the center of the room. It was an unfortunately coffinlike thing, its doors open and looking ready to eat him alive. _That's where it'll happen,_ he thought nervously. “Are you ready?” Erskine asked him. Shiro nodded in response, never taking his eyes off the machine. “Good,” Erskine said with a smile. “Take off your shirt, your tie, and your hat,” he instructed, and Shiro did, feeling as if his hands were moving of their own accord. He was told to lie down inside the mechanical coffin, and he complied, shifting nervously against the cool leather.

“Comfortable?” Erskine asked him with a touch of dry humor.

“It's a little big,” Shiro responded, grateful for the distraction. “Did you save me any of that schnapps?” he asked.

“Not as much as I should have. Sorry,” Erskine said frankly. “Mr. Holt, how are your levels?” he asked, raising his voice to address -

 _Holy shit, that's actually Sam Holt!_ Shiro thought as the man himself walked up to them. Shiro had only ever seen him in newspapers, and at a distance at the Holt Expo. Now, up close, he looked like any ordinary man, carrying himself without any of the arrogance that Shiro had expected from such a brilliant and successful man. “Our levels are at one hundred percent,” Holt replied. “We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready as we'll ever be.” There was a determined light in his eyes as he said this, and Shiro felt reassured - slightly.

Doctor Erskine picked up a microphone and began to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen, today we take not another step towards annihilation, but the first step on the path to peace.” Shiro realized that the microphone was his way of communicating with the people in the viewing booth. Glancing up into the booth, he noticed Colonel Iverson and Ronnie had taken seats there, along with several other people.

“We begin with a series of micro-injections into the subject's major muscle groups,” Erskine narrated as people bustled around Shiro. From his horizontal position, he couldn't see much - he was too nervous to process much of what he was seeing anyways.

“The serum infusion will cause immediate cellular change. And then, to stimulate growth, the subject will be saturated with Vita-Rays,” Erskine explained to the watching crowd.

Shiro let out his breath slowly as a nurse gave him an injection. “That wasn't so bad,” he said to Erskine optimistically.

“That was penicillin,” Erskine said apologetically. _Oh, great,_ Shiro thought.

“Serum infusion beginning in five, four, three, two, one,” Erskine said, and Shiro winced at the sharp pain of the many injections that the machine administered.

“Now, Mr. Holt,” Erskine called out, and Shiro felt the machine begin to move, lifting him up until he was suspended vertically, locked behind the heavy metal doors.

“Takashi? Can you hear me?” he heard Erskine's muffled voice outside. Everything felt infinitely more separate from him, and it struck him again that he was doing this _alone._

“It's probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?” he asked weakly, determined not to lose his sense of humor.

“We will proceed.” He heard the smile in Erskine's voice as he said it, and felt a surge of pride.

The machine was flooded with a white light that blinded Shiro, even through his closed eyelids. “That's ten percent,” Holt called out.

“Twenty percent.”  

“Thirty.” A tingling sensation was beginning to spread through Shiro's body, not unlike pins and needles.

“That's forty percent.”

“Vital signs are normal,” he dimly heard one of the doctors report.

“That's fifty percent.” Now he felt the tingling turn into a burning, and he was afraid of how much worse it might become if they were only halfway through the process.

“Sixty.”

“Seventy.” The burning was spreading, intensifying. He heard himself scream as if from a distance.

“Takashi! Takashi!” he heard Erskine pounding on the door.

“Shut it down!” he heard Ronnie repeat several times.

Erskine was shouting again, fearfully. “Kill the reactor, Mr. Holt! Turn it off! Kill the reactor!”

“No! Don't! I can do this!” he shouted. There was silence from outside as Shiro breathed heavily, trying not to concentrate on the pain.

“Eighty.” Oh God, was he going to die before they finished?

“Ninety.” He thought about Adam: his smile, his voice, his laugh.

“That's one hundred percent!”

And then suddenly, the pain faded, the blinding light of the Vita-Rays faded, and Shiro’s roaring pulse faded from his ears. He felt himself being helped out of the machine, heard the astonished buzz of the people around him. “I did it,” he panted, eyes still shut, afraid of what he would see when he opened them.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he heard Doctor Erskine say with a hint of pride in his voice. He was one of the people who had helped him down. “I think we did it.”

“You actually did it,” Holt said, awestruck.

Shiro finally opened his eyes to see a crowd of stunned people, all staring at him and muttering to each other, and - was it just him, or were all these people shorter all of a sudden?

His eyes focused on Ronnie, who looked torn between relief and worry. “How do you feel, kid?” she asked him.

How did he feel? He felt like he could see and hear more clearly. He felt like a slight weight had been lifted from his chest, allowing him to breathe more properly. He felt like he could run and run and _run_ and never get tired. He felt -

“Taller,” he said truthfully, which made Ronnie roll her eyes and laugh.

“‘Taller,’ he says. You sure _look_ taller, kid,” she chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief as she handed him a shirt, which he accepted gratefully -

BOOM!

An explosion from the facility's viewing booth lit up the facility, spraying glass into the crowd below. There were screams, and someone shouted “Stop him!” With his face turned away from the explosion, Shiro heard two gunshots -

_No._

-and turned around just in time to see Doctor Erskine fall -

**_No._ **

-and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man responsible running up the stairs, the last vial of the serum in his hand.

**_No!_ **

He rushed to see if Erskine was alright, but he could tell immediately that he wasn't. Blood stained his shirt and spread, and spread, and spread and Shiro wished he could help him, wished he could _do something_ , wished that even after being injected with a super soldier serum, he wasn't so _useless -_

But Erskine was looking him right in the eyes, lifting his shaking hand and tapping Shiro's chest twice, directly above his pounding heart. Shiro watched a peaceful expression settle on Erskine's face, and he knew that he was dead.

Shiro wanted to cry, to scream, to mourn the man who had given that skinny kid from Brooklyn a chance, the man who had promised to share a drink with him after the procedure. But there was no time, he knew. He had to get the serum back, make sure Erskine's work wasn't in vain. Quickly, more quickly than he knew he was able to, he was moving: up the stairs, down the hall, out into the storefront that served to disguise the facility. Immediately, he saw Agent Macias standing in the street, firing calmly but with a fire in her eyes. _Thank God she's on our side,_ Shiro thought fervently. Then he noticed that she was firing at a car - at a _moving_ car, to be exact, moving _right for her,_ and she _wasn't moving out of its way._

 _What the hell, Ronnie?!_ Shiro thought frantically, getting a running start to tackle her out of the car's path. “I had him!” she protested indignantly, and maybe she was right - she was _Ronnie_ , after all - but there was no time.

“Sorry!” Shiro said hurriedly before running after the cheerful yellow taxi. Shiro had run before, but never like _this._ He moved faster, breathed more easily, and even through his grief and anger, he felt a surge of awe at the serum's effects -

-and that was when he crashed through a store window while trying to round a corner. _Oh no,_ he thought guiltily, but again, there was no _time._ “Sorry!” he shouted again before taking off once more. He knew that even with the serum's help, he could never catch up to the car by simply chasing after it. Luckily, he knew this neighborhood, knew the street the car was driving down, knew where to go in order to intercept it. He cut through an alley, jumping the chain-link fence with barely a pause. He ended up on a different street, and saw the taxi ahead of him.

He ran after it with renewed determination, but at the rate he was dodging all the other cars, he would miss the taxi. So he stepped onto the hood of the nearest car and launched himself into the air, leaping from car to car until he landed on top of the taxi, barely managing to hold on. The man driving the car tried to shake him off, but Shiro gripped the roof of the car resolutely. He had gotten this far, how could he possibly let himself be shaken off now?

They were nearing the pier now, and Shiro was still holding on until the man started firing at him through the car's roof, and Shiro was forced to let go. Now he was clinging to the car's side, with the man still firing at him, but now the man had had his eyes off the road for too long, and suddenly the sky and the earth were switching places, spinning and spinning around him. His grip on the car was dislodged, and he hit the pavement hard.

He staggered to his feet, dazed, and looked up just in time to see the man begin to fire at him again, but this time he was a clearer target. The taxi's door had fallen off when the car had gone tumbling, and he used it as a shield. But then the man was grabbing a boy from the crowd of people at the pier, holding him to his chest as his own shield.

The man backed away, and Shiro tried to follow, but the man fired at him and he was forced to duck behind the corner of a building. Shiro waited until the man rounded the next corner, and then ran after them.

When he reached the docks, the man was waiting for him, with his gun held to the boy's head. _No,_ Shiro thought, walking forward to draw the man's fire. He raised the gun and fired -

-But his gun was empty. Tossing it aside, the man pushed the boy into the water and ran, leaving Shiro with a choice between saving the boy or catching up to him.

 _I'm sorry, Erskine,_ Shiro thought as he moved to help the boy, but then -

“It's okay, mister! I can swim!” the kid assured him, and Shiro grinned before chasing after the other man. He had gotten into a small submarine that sat waiting in the water, and it was starting to leave the shipyard.

Without thinking, Shiro dove into the water after the man, swimming as hard as he could after the submarine. He managed to catch up to it and punched through the window, causing the man to frantically open the top in an attempt to swim away. But Shiro grabbed the man and threw him back to the surface before hurriedly leaving the water to ensure that the man didn't escape.

On the surface, the man tried to punch Shiro, but he dodged it and kicked him in retaliation. The vial of the serum went flying and cracked against the pavement. Shiro felt his heart sink at that, but he focused on Erskine's murderer. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, grabbing the man by the shirt in his anger.

“The first of many,” the man said with a wild look in his eyes. “Cut off one head, two more grow in its place.” He bit down on something - _a suicide pill,_ Shiro realized when it was too late - and choked out his last words: “Hail HYDRA.”

Shiro released him and stood, feeling self-doubt burst into his mind and settle in like a relative who had come for an uninvited stay. Even with his enhanced abilities, he had failed to retrieve the serum, as well as the man who had taken it and killed Doctor Erskine.

But God, what abilities they were. He looked down at his hands and felt a small ray of hope. At least he would finally be able to help the war effort now, in ways that he could only imagine.

 

A few weeks later, Shiro was helping the war effort in a way that he had _definitely_ not imagined. He stood before a crowd of tired soldiers in a bright red, white and blue costume, trying to give a motivational speech on the war to a group of men who had actually been fighting in said war.

Aftwr Erskine's death, samples of Shiro's blood had been taken in the hopes that the serum could be replicated successfully. Then Shiro had wanted to be sent overseas to serve in the war, the way Erskine had intended, but Colonel Iverson had refused. Instead, he had been sent on a tour across the country as ‘Captain America’, making speeches and smiling for cameras while men risked their lives on the front lines. At first it had been embarrassing but sort of fun, and then it had turned out to just be flat out embarrassing when the shows got more and more elaborate as his fame grew. Captain America’s U.S. tour had greatly motivated audiences in America (and all for the small price of Shiro's pride), so they had finally sent him overseas…

...where he had been booed off the stage several hours ago by men who had every right to hate this cartoonishly ridiculous figure who claimed to be a soldier like them. Now Shiro sat by the abandoned stage, taking shelter from the pouring rain and feeling useless.

 _“You look fuckin’ ridiculous, Takashi,”_ he could hear Adam saying with glee. Shiro sighed.  If Adam were here, he would have laughed at Shiro when they were alone, then defended him fiercely against anyone else that laughed at Shiro. _Adam,_ Shiro thought, sadly, fondly, desperately. He wondered where he was now, whether he was safe, whether he thought of him often -

“Shiro!” a familiar voice greeted him. He turned to see Ronnie standing behind him, grinning her rare, easy grin.

“Ronnie!” he said in surprise, feeling himself return the smile. Seeing a familiar face in this moment felt like a warm, slightly apologetic hug from whatever power existed above. “What are you doing here?”

“Officially, I'm not here at all,” she said, putting a finger to her lips with a mischievous wink and settling onto a crate beside him. “That was...quite a performance, kid,” she said.

Shiro exhaled a short, self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, I had to improvise a little. The audiences I'm used to are more...twelve,” he said, recalling all the smiling, laughing children he had seen on his American tour. He sighed deeply, hanging his head. “I shouldn't be complaining - at least they've got me doing this. Iverson would've had me stuck in a lab.” Iverson had wanted to keep Shiro for experimentation, but the government had decided to have him adopt the ‘Captain America’ persona, which honestly wasn't much better. Either way, Shiro would have felt useless.

“And those are your only options? A lab rat or a...a dancing monkey?” Ronnie asked him incredulously. “This isn't what Doctor Erskine risked everything for; he intended for you to be more than this.”

Shiro knew - how could he forget? Serving in the war - _really_ serving, was the one thing he _ached_ to do, the thing he was kept from every day because he was expected to wear this costume and recite campy speeches. “You know, for the longest time, I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines, serving my country. I finally got everything I wanted, and I'm wearing tights,” he said bitterly. There was a commotion behind them; an ambulance had arrived, and a man was being carried out on a stretcher. “Look at them; they've been through hell,” he said softly, bitterly.

“These men more than most,” Ronnie said grimly. “Sendak sent out a force to his army. Two hundred men went up against him. Less than fifty returned.” Shiro felt numb, knowing that those casualties were something that _he_ could have lessened, maybe even prevented. He wanted to -

“Your audience contained what was left of the 107th,” Ronnie told him sadly. “The rest were killed or captured.” And Shiro

_(“-what was left of the 107th-”)_

felt

_(“-the rest were killed-)_

time

_(“-or captured-”)_

stop.

_Adam._

 

“Colonel Iverson,” he said, approaching the man at his desk.

“Well, if it isn't the star-spangled man with a plan! What is your plan today?” Iverson said in typical Iverson fashion, referencing the nickname that ‘Captain America’ had been given in his theme song.

 _You smug bastard,_ Shiro thought, that evil, _evil_ theme song echoing in his head _._ He was certain it would haunt him for the rest of his life. “I need the casualty list of Azzano,” Shiro said, cutting straight to the point.

“You don't get to give me orders, son,” Iverson responded almost lazily.

“I just need one name: Sergeant Adam Wadekar from the 107th,” Shiro said without faltering.

Iverson's good eye focused on Ronnie, who was beside Shiro. “You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won't enjoy,” he said, clearly irritated with her for sharing more information than necessary with Shiro.

“Please tell me he's alive, sir -”

“I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I care to count,” Iverson said, and for a moment, Shiro saw him as the tired, war-weary colonel he really was. “But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry.” What made it worse was that Shiro knew he was being sincere.

_No, no, no, Adam, no, no -_

“What about the others?” Shiro asked, shaking his head to clear it. “Are you planning a rescue mission?”

“Yeah, it's called winning the war,” Iverson said determinedly.

Shiro admired his confidence, but that still didn't justify leaving the remaining men behind. “But if you know where they are, why not at least -”

“They're thirty miles behind the lines, through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe,” Iverson said, surveying the map grimly. “We'd lose more men than we'd save, and I don't expect you to understand that because you're a chorus girl.”

“I think I understand just fine,” Shiro said, biting back everything he wanted to say, to shout, to _scream_ at Iverson. _You’ve been doubting me since day one - because I’m Japanese, because I was small, because you couldn't control me. And even now, with the serum, you wanted to keep me as a guinea pig and you won't let me help in this damn war -_

“Well then, understand it somewhere else,” Iverson growled. “If I've read the posters correctly, you've got somewhere to be in about thirty minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” Shiro said, glaring at the map. “I do.

Several minutes later, Ronnie found him in his room, packing. “What’re you planning to do, walk to Austria?’’ she demanded, already knowing that he wasn't going to just let the issue go.

“If that's what it takes,” Shiro said curtly. He was certain that Ronnie wouldn't stop him forcefully, but he wasn't about to let her talk him out of this.

“You heard the colonel, your friend is most likely dead.” At these words, despair took hold of Shiro all over again. He thought of Adam, who had always supported him no matter the circumstances. Adam, who had  been drafted into the army when Shiro had been the one trying and trying to enlist. Adam, who had eyes the color of strong coffee, except the strongest coffee could never make Shiro feel as alive as Adam did -

“You don’t know that,” was all that Shiro allowed himself to say before leaving his tent.

“Shiro!” Ronnie followed him outside, where he was throwing his pack into the back of a nearby Jeep. Knowing that Ronnie was the only person who could possibly stop him from leaving, he decided to confront her head-on.

“You told me you thought I was meant for more than this,” he said, looking her directly in the eyes. “Did you mean that?”

She didn't flinch from his gaze, didn't hesitate. “Every word,” she said, squaring her shoulders. Shiro remembered their talk before Project Rebirth, how she had said that he was special. Even before the serum, she had believed in him.

“Then you gotta let me go,” Shiro told her, settling into the Jeep's front seat and starting to drive away.

“Kid, wait!” she said, running up to him before he could get any further. “I can do more than that,” she told him, and the determination in her eyes told him that maybe, _just maybe_ , they had a chance of pulling this off.

A few hours later, he found himself in a plane flying over hostile territory with Ronnie and Sam Holt, of all people. “He's the best civilian pilot I know,” Ronnie had insisted, and somehow, Shiro had agreed to her plan.

“The HYDRA camp is in Crossberg, between these two mountain ranges. It's a factory of some kind,” Ronnie informed him.

“We should be able to drop you around the doorstep,” Sam called back to him from the cockpit of the plane.

“Just get me as close as you can,” Shiro told him, feeling guilty for involving Holt. Hell, he felt guilty for bringing Ronnie into this - she had a hard enough time being taken seriously as it was. “You know, you two are gonna be in a lot of trouble when you land,” he said, realizing it was a bit late to be warning them.

“And you won't?” Ronnie asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow at him.

Shiro shrugged. “Where I'm going, if anybody yells at me, I can just shoot them.”

“They're gonna shoot you right back, kid,” Ronnie pointed out.

“Let's hope this is good for something,” Shiro said, tapping his prop ‘Captain America’ shield. He was also wearing a helmet he had stolen from one of the showgirls touring with him. He hoped guiltily that he would survive to give it back to her.

“You're really going with _those_?” Ronnie asked, nodding towards his getup. When he nodded, she rolled her eyes. “This ‘Adam’ must be a hell of a guy, right, Holt?” she said, raising her voice so that Holt would hear her. Holt simply laughed in response.

 _What the hell, Ronnie?_ “Well, he - Of course he's - I mean, I - He's my best friend,” Shiro stammered. Ronnie's brows rose even further at his defensive response and Shiro felt his face flush -

BOOM!

Suddenly, there was fire going off around them. _They've found us,_ Shiro thought frantically. Deciding that he had endangered the Ronnie's and Holt's lives enough for one day, he rose and made his way to the plane's door.

“Kid, get back here! We're taking you all the way in!” Ronnie yelled above the sounds of explosions.

“As soon as I'm clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!” Shiro shouted back stubbornly.

“You can't give me orders!” Ronnie protested.

Shiro looked out and saw that the sky was alight with enemy fire. _Fuck it,_ he decided. “The hell I can't! I'm a captain!” And with those words, he jumped.

Shiro landed in the woods safely, and immediately saw lights in the distance. He cautiously traveled toward them and, sure enough, he eventually came upon a large building that he assumed was the factory Ronnie had mentioned. There was a distant rumbling, and Shiro ducked to avoid being seen. From his cover behind the trees, he saw a line of trucks heading towards the building.

 _That's my way in,_ he realized, and ran to catch up with the last truck. He jumped into the back with no problem and came face-to-face with two men wearing black masks. Fortunately, he had caught them off guard - they were easy enough to defeat and toss out of the back of the truck.

He managed to sneak inside the facility and came upon a group of cages containing the captives. A single guard paced among the cages and Shiro, marveling at the overconfidence of these people, took him out easily.

“And who are you, exactly?” a prisoner asked skeptically as Shiro took the keys from the guard.

“Um…” Shiro fumbled with the keys, and his attention was drawn to the shield on his arm. _What the hell,_ he decided. “Captain America.”

“I beg your pardon?” another man asked, but Shiro didn't have time to explain. He quickly unlocked the cages, scanning the prisoners’ faces for one more familiar to him.

“Is this everyone? I'm looking for a Sergeant Adam Wadekar,” he said as loudly as he dared.

“Wadekar was taken to the isolation ward,” someone told him, his mournful tone making Shiro's spirits sink. “No one's ever come out of there alive.”

 _Not yet, they haven't._ “The tree line is northwest, eighty yards past the gate. Get out fast, and give ‘em hell. There's a clearing in the forest, I'll met you there with -” He forced himself not to say Adam's name. “- with anyone else I find.” He turned to leave -

“Wait! Do you know what you're doing?” another prisoner asked him with concern.

“Sure I do,” Shiro replied, thinking back to his ‘Captain America’ shows. “I've knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times.” Then he left to search for the isolation ward.

A few minutes into his search, he came across a small man, clearly making a hurried escape. He stopped in his tracks, watching Shiro nervously for a moment before disappearing down the hall. Shiro started after him -

And just then, he heard a soft groan from the room the man had just left. A surge of hope ran through him, and he forgot all about the man, walking instead into the room. He heard a voice mumbling, and he turned to his right to see a man lying on an operating table. His heart in his throat, Shiro ran up to the table and there he was: _Adam._ He looked thinner, there was stubble on his face, and his eyes stared at the ceiling dazedly - but it was him, it was him, _thank God,_ it was _him_.

“Adam,” Shiro said softly, urgently. No response. Hurriedly, he tore the straps holding Adam to the table, all the while thinking, _Please be all right, please be all right, please, please -_

“It's me,” Shiro said, looking into his eyes and searching -

“Takashi,” Adam said, recognition showing on his face, “Takashi.” Shiro almost sobbed, flooded with relief. There was also an annoying fluttering sensation in his chest, which he did his best to ignore as he helped Adam down from the table. _Right now?_ Really? he thought to himself.

Shiro helped Adam to stand, and realized that Adam was staring at him. “You okay?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah,” Adam said slowly, eyes never leaving his face. “Yeah.”

Shiro sighed in relief, staring back into those dark eyes self-indulgently. “I thought you were dead,” he admitted quietly, almost talking to himself.

“I thought you were smaller,” Adam replied, not missing a beat even in this state. Shiro smiled, distantly noticing a map of Europe on the wall over Adam's shoulder marked in several locations with small black flags.

“What...happened to you?” Adam asked, leaning on Shiro heavily as he led him out of the room.

“I joined the army,” Shiro responded jokingly. He briefly described Project Rebirth to Adam as they walked back the way he had come.

“Did it hurt?” Adam asked with that familiar protective note in his voice that used to annoy and embarrass him as a child. Now it just made Shiro want to kiss him.

“A little,” Shiro admitted, mentally kicking himself for thinking about such things at a time like this.

“Is it...permanent?” Adam wondered, and Shiro felt his eyes on him again.

“So far,” Shiro said cheerfully.

As they made their escape, the place was suddenly being rocked by explosions, and _oh God,_ Shiro had to get Adam out of here before -

“Captain America! How exciting!” came a voice from across the walkway. “I am a great fan of your films!” The speaker was a man with rather wild dark hair and dark clothing. Beside him stood the small man that Shiro had seen earlier. “So, Doctor Erskine managed it after all! Not exactly an improvement, but still. Impressive.” As he spoke, he crossed the walkway, and Shiro walked out to meet him.

Shiro punched him in the face, channeling all his anger into the movement. “You've got no idea,” he growled lowly.

“Haven't I?” Sendak replied, returning with a blow of his own that Shiro barely managed to raise his shield against. The man's fist left a considerable dent in the metal. Shiro tried to draw his gun, but Sendak knocked his feet out from under him and the gun slid off the walkway. Sendak charged him, but Shiro used both feet to kick him back. Then the small man pulled a lever and the walkway withdrew, carrying Shiro and Sendak away from each other.

“No matter what lies Erskine told you, I was his greatest success!” Sendak shouted at him over the roaring flames. He peeled off the glove on his left arm to reveal a grotesquely twisted arm, ending in a clawed hand.

“You don't have one of those, do you?” Adam asked from by Shiro's side.

“We are not like others, Captain. The serum has set us apart from humanity; you delude yourself if you think of them as your allies.” Sendak glanced disdainfully at Adam as he said this, and Shiro felt a surge of anger. “I embrace my superiority proudly, without fear!” he boasted as he retreated to the elevator.

“Then how come you're running?” Shiro shouted after him, and the doors closed. Then another explosion reminded him that he had a rather pressing matter to attend to. He led Adam up the metal staircase, to the level above, where a metal beam connected their side to the other - and to the exit. Adam inched his way across this beam slowly, and Shiro watched with his heart in his throat. Adam _had_ to make it across - the rest didn't matter.

Suddenly, the beam was collapsing - but Adam managed to jump over the rest of the way, and Shiro breathed a sigh of relief.

“There's gotta be a rope or something!” Adam shouted desperately, and Shiro realized that he was still stuck on the other side.

“Just go on without me!” he shouted, determined not to let Adam stay and be killed because of him.

“No! Not without you!” Adam yelled, sounding close to tears. _Dammit, Adam,_ Shiro thought before closing his eyes and jumping.

The journey back to Italy was an exhausting, triumphant march during which Shiro received endless thanks from the men he had saved. Adam was...surprisingly quiet the whole journey, but Shiro supposed that was understandable considering what he had been through.

Their group made quite a scene when they returned. Iverson came out to greet them with a disbelieving look on his face. “Some of these men need medical attention,” Shiro said to Iverson. Then, quietly, he added, “I'd like to surrender myself for disciplinary action.”

“That won't be necessary,” Iverson said with grudging respect.

“Yes, sir,” Shiro said with relief. He turned and grinned triumphantly at Adam.

“Hey!" Adam shouted excitedly. “Let's hear it for Captain America!” And everyone cheered.

People came running to congratulate him, and at the very front was Ronnie. “I knew you weren't dead, kid!” she shouted jubilantly, slinging an arm around his shoulders and ruffling his hair.

“All thanks to you, Ronnie,” he said truthfully.

“Well, I know _that_ , but still! You're a hero!” she said proudly before letting go and leaving him to the mercy of the rest of the crowd. Over their heads he spotted Adam, standing back and watching all the fuss from a distance. He had such a solemn look on his face that Shiro wondered what was on his mind. But when he saw that Shiro was watching, his face immediately smoothed into a smile and he waved to him jauntily.

Adam approached him as the crowd began to thin out, but then stopped in his tracks a few feet away, turning to listen to someone's conversation. “- just don't feel comfortable with him representing our country,” Hodge (of fucking course it was Hodge) was saying none too quietly. Shiro felt his spirits sink a bit at that. Just a bit, really. Then he saw that Adam was approaching Hodge, his fists clenched tightly. Shiro only had time to think, _oh, God_ as Adam tapped Hodge's shoulder almost delicately.

“Excuse me,” Adam said to Hodge cheerfully, politely. “But what the _fuck_ did you just say?” Hodge was opening his mouth, but Adam didn't so much as wait for him to reply. “Takashi Shirogane saved my fucking _life._ He saved a fuckton of lives, and what the fuck are _you_ doing? You're turning your nose up at him because he doesn't look the way _you_ want him to, never mind the fact that he's worth _ten_ of you at the very fucking least. Hell, he's probably on his way over right now to stop _me_ from screaming at you on his behalf because that's the kind of person he is!” Shiro was, in fact, trying to reach Adam, but the crowd had thickened considerably during Adam's outburst. “But seeing as how he hasn't gotten here yet -” Adam punched him, right across the jaw. Hodge went flying a second time, and Shiro had to admit it was satisfying to watch. “And Takashi was born in Brooklyn, if that makes you any more _comfortable,_ ” Adam sniped before turning his back on Hodge, and _goddammit_ , Shiro was still very much in love with this man. He had hoped that their time apart would have dulled his feelings, but here they were, as sharp as ever because Adam had a fierce expression and a fire in his eyes and he had just punched a man for Shiro and _dammit_ , this wasn't fair. The man had been held captive and experimented on for God's sake, but he was still _beautiful_.

“He had it coming, Takashi,” Adam said to him, obviously prepared to defend his actions to Shiro.

 _I'm in love with you._ “Still, you didn't have to punch him.”

Adam scoffed. “Oh, please. If everybody weren't watching you so closely, you woulda launched yourself right at him,” he said with a fond smile, but there was a trace of sadness in his voice.

 _You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen._ Shiro merely laughed in reply. Then Adam's expression became more serious.

“Can we...talk, Takashi?” he asked hesitantly, which caught Shiro off guard. Adam was _never_ hesitant around Shiro - it must be something serious.

 _I would do anything for you._ “Sure,” Shiro said, leading Adam to his tent.

Adam walked beside him rather stiffly. Shiro could sense that Adam still wasn't used to this new Shiro - this ‘Captain America’ who wore Shiro's face and spoke with his voice but was otherwise entirely different.

“Wow. Captain America really gets the five star treatment, huh?” Adam said, eyeing his room. While the soldiers slept in tents crowded with bunks, Shiro got his own tent all to himself. It was by no means luxurious, but it was more space than the others got, and it even had a record player.

“Adam...about this Captain America thing - ” Shiro began, but Adam cut him off.

“Yeah, let's talk about this ‘Captain America thing’,” Adam said. His voice was calm, but Shiro could feel an undercurrent of anger, rising slowly, waiting patiently to be fully unleashed. “Takashi, you let these people... _use_ you as some fuckin’... _guinea pig_ for an experiment that might have gotten you killed! And all for a chance to join the army, to fuckin’...prove yourself the way you always wanted to! You were sick enough as it was, what the hell would you have done if it had made you worse? What the hell would _I_ have done if it had fucking _killed_ you, Takashi?!”

Shiro was speechless. He had never imagined that Adam would react like _this._ He had expected him to be shocked and disbelieving, maybe even a bit afraid. But even though Shiro had realized the risk involved in Project Rebirth, he hadn't thought about how _Adam_ would see that risk. Adam, who had nursed him through colds and fevers and bouts of asthma. Adam, who had always been there to protect him from bullies. Adam, who was his best friend and who cared about him, even though it wasn't in the way Shiro wanted him to, the way Shiro _ached_ for him to.

“At least I know for certain that whoever _this_ ,” Adam gestured to Shiro with hurt and anger and uncertainty on his face, “is still the real Takashi. You wouldn't hesitate to do something as stupid as this.”

It took Shiro a moment to process this last statement, but when he did, it made him laugh. A short, huffing laugh - more of a sigh, really, but a laugh nonetheless.

And before he knew it, he was really laughing.

“Takashi, are you - Are you seriously fucking _laughing?_ ” Adam asked incredulously, but Shiro heard a note of amusement in his voice, and in that moment, he knew that they would be okay. After a moment, Adam was laughing too and maybe it was a little bit hysterical but they were laughing _together_ \- two soldiers, two survivors, two best friends. Before he could think better of it, Shiro was moving forward and wrapping Adam in his arms.

“I'm really sorry, Adam,” he said softly, letting his eyes close when Adam hugged him back. His heart was a hell of a lot stronger now, but Adam could still make it beat like he had just run a mile. “You're right, I - I'm a fucking idiot, and I shouldn’t have, and I'm sorry - ”

“It's so fuckin’ _weird_ hugging you now that you're taller than me,” Adam muttered, which set them both off again. This time their laughter was easier, more like the laughs Shiro was used to sharing with Adam, and _God,_ he wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.

“Shiro, are you in there? Can I come in?” a voice Shiro recognized as Ronnie’s asked from outside the tent. Shiro and Adam sprang apart almost guiltily, although why Adam would feel guilty, Shiro didn't know. To him, they were just a couple of pals hugging it out after an argument.

“Yeah, sure! Come in, Ronnie!” Shiro called out, feeling unreasonably startled and irritated.

She drew aside the tent flaps, and her clever blue eyes immediately landed on Adam. “Is this your Sergeant Wadekar?” she asked in a carefully neutral tone.

 _What the hell, Ronnie?!_ “He - He's not _my_ \- ” Shiro sputtered, but Adam seemed unfazed.

“Yes, ma'am. Sergeant Adam Wadekar,” Adam introduced himself, walking up to shake her hand.

“Agent Veronica Macias,” Ronnie replied. “I heard about Hodge - very well done. It's a pleasure to finally meet the man Shiro wouldn't shut the hell up about,” she said, as smooth as anything.

“Uh - ”

“So! Ronnie, what brings you here?” Shiro asked loudly before Adam could respond and give Ronnie more opportunities for...whatever the hell she thought she was doing.

Ronnie's face scrunched up in disgust. “The USO is hosting a dance, and I'm expected to attend - I'm expected to _dance_ .” She looked absolutely horrified at the very idea. “Honestly, who the hell invented dancing? It makes no _sense_ to me, so I'm hopeless at it.”

“Um...Takashi and I know how to dance,” Adam volunteered quietly, almost shyly. Shiro sighed inwardly. Of _course_ his best friend would be starstruck by Ronnie - beautiful, fierce Ronnie. What ordinary man wouldn't be? He told himself he didn't have the right to be jealous, but it didn't do much.

Ronnie brightened up considerably at that. “Oh, perfect! Could you show me how?”

Adam chuckled softly, casting his gaze down to his shoes. “You’ll want Takashi to teach you, he's the one who taught me. He - he's actually actually a lot better than I am.” His tone was gentle, wistful, and memories of that tiny Brooklyn apartment - playing soft music on his mother's second-hand record player, awkwardly shuffling around what little space they had, letting Adam put his hand on his waist so he could teach him how to lead, grasping Adam's warm hand in his - flooded through Shiro's mind, uninvited and uninhibited.

“I am not!” Shiro protested vehemently, turning away so they wouldn't see his cheeks reddening at the memory. After an embarrassed pause, he added, “But I will teach you if you want,” because this was _Ronnie:_ she had comforted him when he had felt useless; she had helped him rescue Adam. He couldn't possibly let her down in such a simple, stupid way, no matter how Adam felt about her.

“Oh, I - I'm more of a visual learner. I could put some records on and maybe you two could demonstrate?” Ronnie asked casually.

 _Yes, yes, yes,_ Shiro’s heart sang, beating in his chest madly. But of course, his mind had other ideas. “Uh...I'm not sure. Adam…?” He turned to Adam for his opinion, but he had silently moved from his spot by the door and had walked up to the room's shelf, surveying the records there.

“They have Ben Pollack's ‘Sweetheart, We Need Each Other’, Takashi!” Adam said excitedly, naming one of the very few records that Shiro's mother, and then later, Shiro, had owned back in Brooklyn. “Your favorite!”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Put it on!” Ronnie responded eagerly, and Adam rushed to comply. As the first notes of ‘Sweetheart, We Need Each Other’ filled the room, and Shiro felt his face flush even more. It seemed like such a sappy song all of a sudden. But he refused to back down, and so he extended his hand towards Adam. “Shall we?” he asked, trying for a casual tone and probably sounding like he was in pain.

“Y - yeah,” Adam said, taking it after a moment’s hesitation. Shiro's hand was bigger now, but their hands still fit perfectly together. “You should probably lead this time,” Adam told him, avoiding eye contact with Shiro. _Is he embarrassed?_ Shiro thought, slightly hurt even though logically, he knew it wasn't his fault.

“Oh. Um, sure,” Shiro said stupidly. He put his other hand on Adam's waist and silently sent a prayer to whatever God might exist for strength. Adam finally looked him in the eyes as he placed his own hand on Shiro's shoulder, and Shiro felt the air leave his lungs, as if his asthma had suddenly returned with a vengeance.

They started to dance around the small space, fumbling a bit before settling into the rhythm. Shiro’s eyes never left Adam's, and he felt his chest _ache_ as he had never felt it ache before.

 _(“Why is the bluebird sad and so blue? Missing his sweetie, what can he do?”_ Scrappy Lambert sang from the gramophone. _“He has a blue song, you hear him coo: ‘Sweetheart, we need each other.’”)_

 _“The serum amplifies everything that is inside,”_ Doctor Erskine had said, and Shiro wondered momentarily if that applied to his feelings for Adam…

_(“Not like a bluebird, more like a jay. ‘I miss you, sweetie, I get that way.’ Then like the mockingbird, I have to say: ‘Sweetheart, we need each other.’”)_

Because in this moment, he was the most beautiful thing Shiro had ever seen, warm and hesitantly grinning and _alive_ …

_(“How I'm missing you. I'd rather spend my time just kissing you.”)_

Maybe it was his relief at having Adam here with him, alive and well; maybe it was the serum…

_(“Bees need the flowers, flowers the dew. We all need someone, honey, how I need you.”)_

But whatever it was, it made Shiro's head light, made his heart soar, and made his hands tremble - or was it Adam that was trembling? - because he was _so close…_

_(“Oh, sweetheart, we need each other.”)_

_He's very close,_ Shiro realized when the song ended. They held on to each other and stared into each other's eyes as if they were afraid of letting go or looking away because the other might disappear if they did. Their noses were almost touching, and the way that Adam was _looking_ at him -

“Sergeant Wadekar! You in there?” Colonel Iverson's gruff voice came from outside Shiro's tent. They broke apart suddenly, and Shiro immediately missed Adam's warmth.

“Oh - Oh, shit - Yes, I'm here, Colonel!” Adam said, blinking rapidly and darting fleeting glances at Shiro. The tent's opening flap was pulled aside roughly, and there was Iverson, a thunderous look on his face.

“I've been looking for you everywhere, Sarge - report to my tent immediately!” Iverson yelled, making everyone in the tent - even Ronnie, who Shiro had honestly forgotten was _in_ the tent - flinch.

“I - Yes, sir,” Adam said, glancing at Shiro once more before straightening his posture and rushing out of the room.

There was silence: a heavy, heartbreaking silence. Then -

“You're in love with him, aren't you?” Ronnie said bluntly.

“Yeah,” Shiro sighed before realizing what he had just admitted. “I mean - Oh God - It's not that I - ”

“It's alright, Shiro,” Ronnie said with a smile. She rose from the seat she had taken on Shiro's bed and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, I think he might love you too.”

Hilarious, beautiful, brave Adam, in love with him? Shiro knew that was ridiculous. But it didn’t stop that small, stupid glimmer of hope that flickered in his chest, didn't stop that small, stupid smile from spreading across his face.

 

Later, Shiro was called to the S.S.R.’s base of operations in England, where he was asked to recount important information he had gotten from the HYDRA facility. When they heard about the map that he had seen, he had been asked to replicate the positions of the markers, which he somehow managed to do (he had begun to suspect that the serum had enhanced his memory). These markers were the locations of all of HYDRA's major weapon factories, and to his shock and delight, he was given a mission - an honest-to-God _mission_.

“What do you say, Shirogane?” Iverson asked him brusquely. “It's your map; think you could wipe HYDRA off it?”

“Yes, sir,” Shiro replied, barely disguising his joy. Over Iverson's shoulder, Ronnie grinned and gave him a thumbs-up before returning to her usual professionally neutral expression.

“Of course, you'll need something a little more practical than that costume of yours to do that properly,” Iverson said, raising an eyebrow at Shiro. “Holt!” he barked, and the young scientist appeared at his shoulder.

“You bellowed, sir?” he said dryly.

“Don't give me your sass, kid,” Iverson muttered, “just show the captain here what you've got.”

“Yes, sir,” Holt responded promptly. “My lab is this way, Captain.” He exited the room, hands tucked into his pockets casually.

“Mr. Holt, I never got to thank you for helping me out in Italy,” Shiro said, remembering suddenly that this was the same man who had flown him into Austria to save Adam.

Holt smiled and waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, don't mention it, Captain. My work is almost never dull, but I do appreciate breaks from it now and then.” They walked into Holt's laboratory, where people in white coats busily spoke worked on a dizzying range of projects. Holt led him to long table full of metal objects that Shiro immediately recognized as shields despite their greatly varying shapes.

“I hear you've grown attached to your shield,” Holt said, tapping Shiro's original shield, which lay on the table. “I took the liberty of coming up with a few...more durable options.” He eyed the dent that Sendak had made as he said this.

Scanning the row of weapons, Shiro felt no attraction to one in particular. Then something caught his eye from underneath the others - a faint silvery gleam. “What about this one?” he asked.

“That? That was just a prototype,” Holt said, but Shiro was already stooping to pick it up. The simple, circular shield was light but sturdy, and it felt _right_.

“What's it made of?” Shiro wondered.

“Vibranium,” Holt replied proudly. “Stronger than steel and a third the weight. Completely vibration absorbent.”

Shiro was shocked. How could something like this be kept in a lab? “How come it's not standard issue?” he asked.

“Vibranium is the rarest metal on Earth,” Holt said in a wistful tone. “What you're holding right there is our entire supply.”

“Holt! I hope you aren't boring the kid with your science talk,” Ronnie said, walking into the lab and grinning at Holt playfully.

Shiro held the vibranium shield up proudly. “What do you think?” he asked excitedly.

She looked at the shield thoughtfully. “I dunno… Looks kinda flimsy to me.” Then her face broke out in a mischievous expression. Swiftly, she grabbed a gun from a nearby table and fired at him.

Amused (and yes, scared), Shiro ducked behind the shield, feeling it absorb the impact of the bullets. And in that moment, he felt sort of...powerful.

“Guess I was wrong. This thing works just fine,” Ronnie said with a shrug, patting Shiro on the shoulder before breezing back out of the lab as if everyone wasn't staring at her.

Holt chuckled slightly. “Classic Ronnie,” he said. “She's a great girl. Insane, but great.”

Shiro felt inclined to agree.

Fighting with the Howling Commandos gave Shiro a purpose - something he had been missing for so long. He had a mission, he had his team, and he had Adam; nothing else mattered. The days passed by in a blur of fighting, running, and, as Adam put it, “Blowing HYDRA's shit up.”

Until one day, in the middle of a mission to find Doctor Zola, when everything went wrong.

He and Adam had safely landed on the train in which Zola had been traveling, and now they were cautiously advancing to the front of the train to find him. Suddenly the compartment doors slid shut and they were seperated. A fully armed HYDRA guard walked into the compartment that Shiro was trapped in, and from the sound of it, another guard was attacking Adam in the other.

Forcing himself to remain calm, Shiro managed to shield himself from the guard's fire and knock him unconscious. Then he used the man's gun to break through the first door to Adam's compartment. Through the window of the second door, he saw a storage compartment full of boxes. Adam was taking shelter behind a stack near the door, unarmed. Shiro pressed the button that opened the second door and tossed his gun to Adam, who was a better shot than he was. Then he rushed forward, using his shield to send a box sliding across a shelf towards the HYDRA guard. When he dodged the box, he left his cover from behind the shelf, and was immediately shot by Adam.

“I had ‘im on the ropes,” Adam insisted indignantly.

“I know you did,” Shiro replied with a grin.

But suddenly there was another HYDRA goon firing at them, knocking Shiro aside as well as blowing the side of the train open like it was made of paper. Adam grabbed his shield and fired at the man, but the guard shot back he was hit. The shield protected Adam from the worst of it, but the force from the blast sent the shield flying from his hands and pushed him out of the train.

 _No!_ Shiro thought desperately, scrambling to his feet, taking his shield and hurling it at the man with all his strength. The man went flying backwards and Shiro ran to the hole in the train's side, terrified of whether or not Adam would be there.

But Adam - brave, incredible Adam - had managed to hold on to the railing that had once been on the train's interior. “Adam!” Shiro screamed, making his way towards him slowly. “Grab my hand!” he shouted desperately, reaching, reaching, _reaching -_

But then the rail Adam had been clinging to detached from the side of the train and Adam was falling, and nothing else seemed to matter much after that.

They captured Zola, but Shiro still felt as if something fragile inside of him had snapped, fracturing into thousands of tiny shards that pierced his heart whenever he so much as breathed. Inside, he was a tangled mess of grief, rage, and guilt because _I'm a super soldier, goddammit, I could have saved him, I_ should _have saved him._ Outside, he was...numb. Even comforting words from Ronnie could only console him for a short time before he was alone with his thoughts again and he decided that it was all his fault all over again  


“Sendak belongs in a goddamn bughouse,” Iverson said irritably. He had called Shiro, Ronnie, and the Howling Commandos to the S.S.R.’s base to tell them what he had learned from Zola. “He's convinced himself that he's a god, and he's willing to blow up half the world to prove it, starting with the U.S.A.”

“Sendak's working with power far beyond our capabilities,” Holt said grimly. “If he gets across the Atlantic, he could wipe out the entire Eastern seaboard within an hour.”

Shiro wasn't certain that he had ever truly _hated_ someone before - fighting someone was one thing, hating them was another. But here, now, learning of this terrible plan, Shiro was certain that he hated Sendak. He was just another bully, trying to get what he wanted because he believed he was better than anyone else. This plan was just another taunt, another shove, another cry for attention except a thousand times worse because he would _kill_ for that attention, he would _kill_ for people to fear and respect him.

“How much time do we have?” Ronnie asked.

“Just under twenty-four hours, according to my new best friend,” Iverson said. “He's hiding out in HYDRA's last base in the Alps, five hundred feet below the surface.”

Looking at the people around the table, Shiro’s gaze fell on the empty seat to his right. Adam had always taken that seat during meetings. Adam, with his careless grin as he made a joke that lightened the mood of the whole room. Adam, with his eyes narrowing as he prepared to give Iverson a piece of his mind over something the Colonel had said. Adam, with his fierce glare turned on Shiro because he had kicked him under the table before he could say the wrong thing to Iverson. Adam, with his shoulders shaking from silenced laughter at the caricatures Shiro would draw of the other Howlies, Holt, Ronnie, and Iverson - especially Iverson.

Shiro knew that he wasn't alone, but at the same time he _felt_ more alone than he ever had. “Let's blow HYDRA's shit up once and for all,” he said.

 

Shiro rode up to the base on his motorcycle alone, and he was soon joined by a squadron of HYDRA men on motorcycles. Using a few upgrades that Holt had given him, he was able to get past the base's entrance. He was determined to take out as many of Sendak's men as possible before the others arrived; not only because it would be fewer men for them to deal with, but also because he wanted to avenge Adam more than anything. Then there were two men on either side of him wielding flamethrowers, boxing him in. He had no choice but to let them take him.

When he was brought before Sendak, he could sense the man's smugness from across the room. “Arrogance is not a uniquely American trait, but I must say, you do it better than anyone,” Sendak told him. “But there are limits to what even you can do, Captain. Or did Erskine tell you otherwise?”

“He told me you were insane,” Shiro replied quietly.

“He resented my genius and tried to deny me what was rightfully mine, but he gave you everything,” Sendak said bitterly. “What made you so special?”

“Nothing,” Shiro said honestly. “I'm just a kid from Brooklyn.” Enraged, Sendak punched him in the face and then in the stomach, forcing Shiro to double over in pain. _Yeah, that's right,_ Shiro thought with triumphant anger, reveling in how much his very existence pissed Sendak off. “I can do this all day,” he panted.

“Oh, of course you can, of course, but unfortunately I am on a tight schedule,” Sendak told him, aiming a gun at Shiro's head. Suddenly, there was a cracking noise as grappling hooks were fired into the mountainside above the windows.

“So am I,” Shiro said with a grin.

The Howling Commandos swung through the windows, spraying glass and bullets everywhere. They took out Sendak's guards with no problem, having the element of surprise on their side. Shiro retrieved his shield from a fallen guard and ran after Sendak, who had fled during the chaos. He glanced at both sides of the hallway, wondering which way Sendak had gone. He decided to go in the opposite direction than the rows of HYDRA guards marching this way.

Sendak fired back at him, but Shiro blocked it with his shield. Sendak disappeared around a corner, and Shiro hurled his shield after him, hearing the metal bounce and then catch on something. Whatever it was, Shiro had missed Sendak and he tried to run after him, but suddenly a guard was stepping out in front of him with another flamethrower. He was forced to duck into a doorway without his shield, and he felt frustrated at being stuck here. The man drew closer, and the heat intensified as his aim became more and more accurate -

There was a crackling of gunfire, and the HYDRA guard fell, his body engulfed in flames. Glancing down the hallway, Shiro saw Ronnie standing there with her gun raised. “Thanks!” he shouted as he continued to chase after Sendak.

“No problem!” he heard her say as he pried his shield from a pair of doors that would have closed had it not wedged them open.

Shiro got to the hangar just as the _Valkyrie’s_ engines were powering up. _There is no way in hell he's getting away._ Shiro made his way through the battle between Sendak's and Iverson's forces, taking only the HYDRA men who stood in his way. He couldn't afford to slow down too much.

He was behind the _Valkyrie_ now, but it was gaining speed as it prepared for takeoff _._ Then he heard an engine revving behind him, and Iverson and Ronnie pulled up beside him in Sendak's car. “Get in!” Iverson roared, and Shiro did. But even in the car, they were falling behind until Iverson pushed a button on the dashboard that made them speed up considerably.

Now they were right underneath the _Valkyrie,_ steadily nearing the end of the craft's runway. “Keep it steady!” Shiro shouted, preparing to jump onto the landing gear.

“Hey, kid!” Ronnie shouted. Shiro turned to look at her, and she was smiling at him. She looked so _proud_ Shiro felt like he could do anything. “Go get ‘im.” Shiro saluted her, nodded to Iverson, and jumped.

On board the _Valkyrie,_ Shiro found rows of missiles waiting to be launched, each labeled neatly with the names of the state it was meant to target. Seeing the missile labeled **NEW YORK** made him angry all over again.

When the HYDRA guards came running, he was able to take his anger  (and fear, if he was being perfectly honest) out on them for a while. One of the guards tried to board the **CHICAGO** missile and fly it to its destination, so Shiro pressed the button on its small control panel that dropped the man and the missile into the ocean below. He tossed another guard out, but yet another had boarded the missile labeled **NEW YORK** while he had been occupied. He jumped atop the craft and tried to use his shield to break through to its pilot. Before he could, however, he was tackled from behind, sending his shield flying from his hands. The pilot took off, with Shiro still clinging to the missile and the other guard still clinging to Shiro. The pilot tried to shake Shiro off, but only succeeded in getting the other guard shredded by the missile's propeller. Shiro pulled the craft's top open and reached in to pull the eject lever, launching the pilot from his seat. Shiro took his place and flew the missile back towards the _Valkyrie._

Sendak must have seen him, because the ship's weapons were suddenly firing at him. The missile's rudder was hit, and Shiro knew he couldn't stay airborne much longer. So he aimed the craft at the _Valkyrie,_ crashing back in the hangar that housed all the bombs. Retrieving his shield, he went to go confront Sendak for what he was determined would be the very last time, one way or another.

 

In the _Valkyrie’s_ cockpit, everything was still. Shiro approached the pilot's chair carefully…

...but then he heard the all too familiar sound of a HYDRA weapon powering up behind him, and he turned just in time to shield himself from a blast from Sendak himself.

“You don't give up, do you?” Sendak shouted.

“Nope!” Shiro replied, charging him. Sendak continued to fire at him, but Shiro blocked the shots, steadily approaching him. He knocked the gun out of Sendak's hands with his shield, and they began to fight, _finally._ After everything the man had done, after all the people he had wronged, Shiro felt that it was incredibly cathartic to face off against Sendak.

But Sendak was strong - stronger than most Shiro had faced thanks to Erskine's serum. Shiro managed to use his shield to throw Sendak back into the pilot's seat of the _Valkyrie_ . But Sendak was thrown against the ship's controls as well, and the _Valkyrie_ began to dive, sending both of them flying up to the ceiling of the cockpit, still fighting. Sendak kicked him aside viciously and then made his way to the _Valkyrie’s_ controls, sending the ship back into a horizontal glide and causing Shiro to crash to the floor of the ship.

“You could have the power of the gods!” Sendak shouted angrily. Shiro heard another HYDRA weapon powering up, and he dodged another bright blue blast from Sendak. “Yet you wear the flag on your chest and think you fight a battle of nations!” He fired again and Shiro hid behind a metal beam, his shield somewhere across the room. “I have seen the future, Captain!” he boasted, still firing. “There are no flags!”

Suddenly, Shiro spotted his shield several feet away from him. “Not my future!” he shouted defiantly, jumping for his shield and using it to block Sendak's next shot. _This is for Adam,_ he thought as he hurled the shield at Sendak with all his might, knocking him into the machine at the center of the cockpit.

Previously glowing a calm, steady blue, the machine now sent off erratic tendrils of crackling blue energy as a crystal cube with a glowing blue center fell out of the machine. _HYDRA’s main power source,_ Shiro realized.

“What have you done?” Sendak asked in horror, picking up the cube in his clawed, twisted hand. Ghostly blue light issued from the cube, and suddenly it was as if Earth's atmosphere had been torn open inside the ship, opening a portal through which Shiro could see endless stars, and a multicolored nebula. It was beautiful in a cold, distant way that made Shiro want to stay far away from whatever it was.

A blue beam of light had begun to stream from the cube as Sendak held it. He screamed in horror before it completely enveloped him and he disappeared completely. The cube was still there, but it seemed to be superheated after so much activity - the metal of the _Valkyrie_ melted out from under it, and it fell into the ocean. And after what had just happened to Sendak, Shiro was glad to see it go. Maybe Sendak had died. Maybe the beam had transported him somewhere. At this point, Shiro found that he didn't really care.

He walked over to the pilot's seat and discovered that the ship was currently above the Arctic ocean, still headed for New York. _I don’t have many options here,_ he thought frantically. _In fact, I think there's only one._

“Come in, this is Captain Shirogane. Do you read me?” he asked.

“Shiro! Are you alright?” he heard a familiar voice ask.

“Ronnie! Sendak's dead!” he reported.

“What about the plane?” she asked.

“That's a little bit tougher to explain,” he admitted.

“Give me your coordinates, I'll find you a safe landing site,” Ronnie replied.

“There's not gonna be a safe landing,” Shiro said grimly, “But I can try to force it down.”

“I'll get Sam on the line, he'll know what to do,” Ronnie said desperately.

“There's not enough time. This thing’s moving too fast, and it's heading for New York,” Shiro said, feeling oddly calm for the first time in a while. “I gotta put her in the water.”

“Please, don't do this. We have time, kid, we...we can work it out.” She sounded close to tears, and Shiro wanted to hug her one last time.

“Right now, I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die.” He looked around him and saw a calm, cloudy sky, a beautiful final sight. “Ronnie, this is my choice,” he said firmly. He heard her start to cry over the radio, and he recalled all the times she had supported him, believed in him, confided in him. Out of the blue, he remembered her disgust for dancing on that one night with Adam.

“Ronnie,” he began.

“I'm here, kid,” she said tearfully.

“Sorry I never got to properly teach you how to dance.” It was such an odd regret, but still a very real one.

“I already knew how, kid,” she choked out.

It took Shiro a moment or two to figure out what that meant, what she had done for him. He remembered Adam's smile that night, the way that his hand had felt in Shiro's. “Thank you,” he breathed, and then everything was cold and dark and numb.


End file.
